


take a look (inside my heart)

by ninwrites



Series: soft hearts, electric souls [2]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alec Lightwood Deserves Nice Things, Alec Lightwood Feels, Alec Lightwood-centric, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Canon compliant for the most part, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Communication, Complicated Relationships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Healthy Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Minor, Minor Spoilers, Parabatai Feels, Prompt Fill, Romantic Fluff, Supportive Magnus Bane, and not so healthy relationships, but there are some slight changes of plot direction, extends past canon, rewriting canon to fit my own narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 21:59:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11655561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninwrites/pseuds/ninwrites
Summary: In the safety of an empty room, Alec smiles.5 times Alec didn't fit in places, and one time he did.





	take a look (inside my heart)

**Author's Note:**

> credit to [boldbiscuit](http://archiveofourown.org/users/boldbiscuit/pseuds/boldbiscuit) for the idea. _{well you are very free to write a fic "five times alec didn't fit in places and one time he did" ;)))))))}_ I bet this isn't what you were expecting..
> 
>  
> 
> forewarning: there's some minor language in this. and some things get a little dark, but nothing more than the show (I don't think..) though the angst is, fairly deep.
> 
> Title from 'Don't Give Up On Us' by The Maine
> 
> (also for anyone who reads them: there is no coda fic this week, as I couldn't come up with anything substantial. so you have this instead. ❤️)

**I**

The door to his father's office creaks when he pushes it.

A thrill races through Alec. He's never allowed into his father's office, and yet here is, poking his head around the corner, ears perked in case his tutor, Hodge, comes thundering around the corner. He shouldn't, because last Alec saw, before he'd skipped out of his lesson, his younger sister Isabelle had been fiddling with a spare stele; Alec isn't sure where she got it, but he does know that it's not really a good idea for a toddler of barely three years to be playing with such a tool. He isn't even allowed to use it, not a real one, only waster steles on paper to practice drawing runes.

By all rights, Hodge should be too busy saving Isabelle from certain danger, to notice Alec's disappearance. It's not like anyone notices Alec much, anyway. He's quiet and unassuming - his mother always tells him to speak up, speak louder, be brazen and outspoken, because he's a Lightwood, and the name apparently commands it ... but Alec isn't like that.

Isabelle is. Always has been, from before she could even speak - she'd just make random noises, to get people's attention. But not Alec.

It has gotten him here, though, with the chance to see what it is his father does all day, and that's an Exciting Thing. Exciting Things don't happen to Alec all that much. He's always studying, runes especially, though Hodge promised to teach him about werewolves soon.

Werewolves. Another Exciting Thing - the capitals are necessary for the jolt that appears when Alec thinks about them.

At first, Alec just stands there. His father isn't in the office, which is weird, because Alec hasn't seen him anywhere else - Alec hasn't really seen his father at all, in the past couple of days, but Hodge, and his mother both reassure him that his father is just really busy. The big, important Shadowhunters in Idris expect a lot from his father, is what he's told. His father's work is important, and keeps him busy a lot.

Alec doesn't really mind, he's never been that close to his father, and besides, he's always there to read to him before bed, at least twice a week when he's  _really_ busy, and that's what really matters. Even if Alec hasn't seen him all day, he's sure he'll be back to read to him, tonight, considering the days he's missed. It's their Thing. Always has been, since Alec could remember.

Something echoes down the hallway, a crash, and almost on instinct Alec rushes into the room, slamming the door behind him. His heart pounds inside his chest, palms flat against the door, back pressed to it firmly. Only once he's sure that he's safe, does he relax, though a thrum of energy still races through him, a hype stronger than he's ever felt before. It's like when he first picked up a bow, content with just holding it, though he's still not allowed to use it.

In the safety of an empty room, Alec smiles.

It's rather, disapproved of. Smiling. Because if you're smiling, you're not concentrating, and that's when accidents happen. But here, with no one else around, Alec can smile. As big and wide as he wants, until his cheeks strain with the effort.

He decides to explore, because any good five-year-old knows that a sense of adventure is important, and should be acted upon. At first, he pretends that he's searching out a demon, hand raised before him with an imaginary blade, face scrunched in intense concentration.

Next, he trails a hand along the bookshelf, feeling for a hidden passageway or secret door. He's heard there's a few of those in Idris, and in the older Institutes, from when Shadowhunters first took up battle against demons. It's a little disappointing, to not find any. He gets bored quite quickly after that.

Something on his father's desk catches his attention. It's silver, glinting in the streaks of light coming through the stained-glass window. Alec gravitates towards it, hesitantly, his anticipation warring with the notion that he's breaking  _so many rules._

A little voice, swirling around his mind, whispers:  _You've already broken the rules. If you're going to get in trouble, it might as well be worth it._  The voice does have a point.

Alec is fairly tall for his age, but not tall enough to quite see over the desk, let alone to reach the silver thing. He stares, debating. His father could walk in at any point. Hodge, too. Or his mother, who's sure to wonder where he is when Hodge can't find him.

But the silver thing is calling to him. He wants to know what it is. He  _needs_ to. Carefully, Alec nudges the chair back, and clambers on top, until his gangly legs are swinging from the seat. It's not really that much bigger than any other chair he's sat on, but on it, he feels atop the world. He feels like, like a  _king_. Or the angel, Raziel himself, looking down at everyone and everything below him. He feels untouchable.

If this is what his father feels, sitting on this chair, then Alec understands why he really spends all of his time here. Alec wouldn't leave, if he had the chance to stay forever.

There's a bunch of random paper on the desk, stacks of it, which doesn't interest Alec all that much. The silver thing turns out to be a pen, a very fancy pen, with swirls on the side and a point at the end, like a stele. Alec picks it up, expecting it to be heavy - maybe it is a stele, and it just looks like a pen? - but quickly discovers there's nothing particularly special about it.

Still. Alec is soaring, floating in the clouds above the world, and he likes the feeling, likes the sense of power he gets from sitting at his father's desk. So, he rifles around until he finds a blank piece of paper, stamped in the corner with the  _Angelic Power_  rune, the first all Shadowhunters learn and the only one Alec knows by name.

Then he starts scribbling, with the big silver pen that doesn't quite fit in his hand right. He draws shapes, and then vague blobs that turn into runes when he stares hard enough, and then, his name. Over and over, in letters of varying size and boldness, until the pen dents the paper with it;  _Alec Lightwood. Alec. Lightwood._

He's about to start writing his sister's name, Izzy, when the door to the office swings open. The shock hits like a gust of wind, but he manages to stay on the chair. His grip tightens on the pen, his free arm moving to cover the paper, protectively.

His mother stands at the door, eyes wide. They land on him, and she deflates, hand fluttering before her. There's a beat of silence, when Alec looks at his mother, and his mother looks at him, and the pen glints silver in the stained light.

His mother seems to recover quickly, shutting the door behind her with a sound that's quite final.

"Alexander." She states, in that low way that tells him she's angry, but trying to keep it in. It's scarier than if she'd slammed the door and yelled at him. His mother is scariest when she's calm, like this, because he's always waiting for an explosion that never seems to come. "What are you doing?"

Alec shrugs, but doesn't speak. It's best not to, he thinks. He's already been caught. He's already in trouble.

"Hodge said you ran away," His mother steps forward slowly, her shoes clicking against the floor. It's always been an easy way to tell if she's near, the sound of her shoes. "Is there a reason for that?"

"I'm sorry." The words rush from him like a stream. To his surprise, his mother smiles. Just slightly.

"That desk is a little big for you, isn't it?" She asks, coming closer, until the waft of flowers reaches Alec's nose. His mother always smells like flowers. His father, like earthy smoke. "Your poor little feet can't even touch the ground."

Alec looks down, and swings his feet, back and forth. He thinks he hears his mother laugh, but when he looks back at her, there's a line between her eyes, and she's gazing at the pen in his hands.

"I don't think you should be using that pen," She says, her voice tight. "It's very important to your father."

She leans over and gently takes the pen from him, her other hand resting on his shoulder. Alec just sits there, and waits. It doesn't really feel like he's being told off, so he's still expecting it.

His mother smiles at him, small and secretive, and squeezes his shoulder. "How about I get you some crayons?" She suggests, her voice lighter, more relaxed, though the grip of her hand is still tight. "Then you can continues writing your notes, and your father won't be upset that you were using his pen."

"Okay," Alec nods, a small smile of his own growing. "I'd like that."

"Yeah?" His mother bends down, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. Alec feels his cheeks warm. His mother doesn't really hug him, but kisses she does. On top of his head, on his cheeks, on his forehead if he's not feeling well. On his nose if she wants to make him laugh.

She pulls back, hand coming up to ruffle his hair. "I'll be right back," She tells him. Alec nods, and watches her turn around, feeling a new kind of excitement. He gets to stay at his father's desk, and write notes, and be king.

 _"Mi'jito,"_  His mother pauses at the door, turning to look back at him. "You know that I love you, right?"

Alec nods. Of course his mother loves him. "I love you too."

His mother smiles, and then she's gone, off to get him crayons, so he can write notes at his father's desk.

He may not see his father often. And that's okay. Because he has his mother, who's always there for him. Who loves him, just as he loves her.

 

* * *

 

**II**

 

Alec's hand strays to his left hip. It still hurts, still feels new and raw, even though it's been over a week since the rune ceremony.

 _Parabatai._ Alec can still hear the oath, spilling from him and into the air between Jace and himself, can still feel the bond as it formed between them, heightened by the uttering of each word.

 _Entreat me not to leave thee, or return from following after thee_ _..._ _The Angel do so to me, and more also,_ _i_ _f aught but death part thee and me._

Alec's hand tightens on his hip, blunt nails digging into the warm skin. Jace has tied his life to Alec's, his  _soul_. There's no bond stronger, deeper or more revered than that of  _parabatai_. Alec won't deny that it feels right, that feeling Jace's heart pulse alongside his own doesn't calm him - because it does. He's never felt like he's done anything worth doing as much as bonding with Jace, but he can't chase off the slick covering of guilt sticking to him like demon ichor every time the bond thrums inside of him.

He can feel when Jace is happy, when he's angry or sad or hurt. The day after their ceremony, on a routine mission, Jace had received a nasty scratch from a  _Rahab_  demon's whiplike bone-edged tail, sliced along the curve of his neck. It hadn't been that bad, or deep, and a quick iratze had healed it up nicely - Jace had joked it was their new bond working it's magic, but Alec hadn't found it funny. Any of it. Because when the tail cut Jace's skin, Alec had  _felt it._

The adrenaline had shrunk in the sight of such quivering fear. There's a difference between knowing someone you ... love, is hurt, and actually feeling it beneath your skin like a second, phantom layer.

The worst part, the part that Alec can't stop thinking about, is what Jace's side of the bond must feel like.

If Alec can feel the rush of endorphins that crash over Jace as he twirls his seraph blade and decapitates a demon, or the warm, sluggish feeling that envelopes him like a blanket when Jace is drawn to sleep like the call of a siren ... does that mean that Jace feels what Alec does?

Does Jace feel the slow buzz that crawls over Alec after his first sip of coffee in the morning? The unending fondness that swells inside him when Isabelle lands a roundhouse kick on Hodge and traps him on the floor of the training room, her new whip dangling from her hand like a rope?

The gentle calm that first accompanies any thought of Jace, before the guilt creeps in - does Jace feel all of that?

Alec has to hope that he doesn't. Jace hasn't said anything to prove it, and the alternative, the idea that Jace knows the disgusting and forbidden thoughts that Alec harbours, is - it's unbearable.

Jace had come to Alec. Jace had asked Alec to be his parabatai, and while Alec's first thought had admittedly been  _why me, why not Izzy, why me? -_ a part of him understands. From the moment Jace had arrived at the Institute, everything about him had been screaming for someone to love him. To protect and care for him. To be the net that catches him when the rafter he dances on cracks.

Somehow, Alec has become that. He's the protector, the net, the shield that keeps Jace safe, the light that chases the darkness he thinks he holds.

(Alec's seen the inside of Jace's soul. There's nothing but golden light there. Alec is the one with the darkness.)

For some unfathomable reason, Jace has decided that Alec is the one he wants to intertwine himself with. Alec knows what happens when a parabatai bond breaks. He wouldn't ever wish that kind of pain on Jace.

So the bond stays. The Mark on his hip continues to burn. And Alec lies, to himself and those he loves most, pretends there's nothing more to his feelings for Jace than a deep need to shelter him from the dangers of the world, the same intrinsic compulsion to defend that he holds where Isabelle is concerned.

If he keeps himself in check, then no one else has to know that every second word he utters is a false truth.

 

* * *

 

 

"Alec!"

Alec's feet pick up speed without conscious effort. His heart is pounding an uneven beat, hard enough to create fissures in the bone of his ribcage, and he can hear his blood roaring in his ears, as loud as crashing waves in his mind.

Yet still Jace's voice carries over it all.

_"Alec!"_

Alec's entire body is screaming  _ABORT ABORT ABORT_. But he can't.

"Alec, seriously, hold up." Jace snags his arm, hand wrapped tightly around it. He spins Alec around, his expression pinched, heterochromatic eyes ablaze. "What the hell, man?"

Alec fights to keep his expression schooled. There's a knot in his stomach twisting tighter with each second that the image he'd walked into burns inside of his mind. Jace.  _Jace_ , shirtless and sweating and pressed flush against a slim brunette girl.

A shudder races down Alec's spine. Fortunately, Jace doesn't seem to notice. His cheeks are flushed, pupils less blown than when they'd landed on Alec's a few minutes before, beads of perspiration sliding down his bare chest. Alec forces his gaze to stay above Jace's chin, lets his frustration and aching upset and all the dark emotions inside him simmer and bubble away without restraint.

"What?" He snaps, a tightrope pulled too taught.

Jace flinches, just slightly, but his grip remains tight on Alec's arm. Alec has always admired his dedication, to his training, to the development of his already fantastic skills, and perhaps fiercest of all, to those he cares for. He still admires it now, even as he's cursing himself for being so transparent, for letting Jace see that something was bothering him. If Jace hadn't noticed, he'd still be in that room, with the Ashdove girl, not chasing after Alec down the hall, no-doubt drawing attention.

Alec hates being the center of attention. Hates the feeling of being judged, and scrutinised and studied, and he hates it even more when it's Jace on the microscopic end.

"What the hell is up with you, man?" Jace's eyes are narrowed, and there's concern bleeding through the bond, and it's all too much.

Alec crosses his arms firmly over his chest, as both a defensive maneuver and a way to hide the tremor in his hands, and lets his mouth twist into a wry sneer. It is, admittedly, a little cruel, but something that needs to be done. Self-preservation, just as he's been taught his entire life.

"I could ask you the same thing," He keeps his voice thin, cold, unimpressed. Better Jace be temporarily upset with him, than permanently disgusted. "I thought that Evelyn Ashdove was one of the best in her class. Perfectly capable of handling herself. I didn't realise she needed one-on-one training with this generations greatest Shadowhunter?"

It's a low blow, and one Alec regrets immediately. Jace is the generations best Shadowhunter, and for good reason. Alec doesn't, wouldn't ever begrudge him that. It's just - the image of Jace wrapped around that girl is burning behind his eyelids, sending phantom shivers down his arms, and he feels sick to the stomach at his own reaction.

Jace's actions are perfectly normal. Expected. Alec, is the abnormal one.

Before this Ashdove girl came to New York, on an exchange to see how an Institute runs away from sheltered Alicante, it was just the three of them, just Jace and Isabelle and himself. Now, all of Jace's interest is in this new girl, and Alec can feel his  _parabatai_  slipping from him, his attention directed elsewhere. Alec knows it's dangerous to be so selfish, not to mention unfair to Jace, but there are some things he can't help despite his hardest attempts to.

A part of Alec is sickly pleased, because he has Jace's attention, and even if it's not quite what he'd like, it's still something.

"You've been acting weird lately." Jace states. Alec resists the urge to scoff -  _because I'm the only one acting differently, Jace?_  It's not worth the argument that will likely arise, if Alec speaks up.

Jace's arm slides up, to grasp at Alec's shoulder. His thumb brushes against the edge of Alec's collarbone, sparks erupting at the touch of skin on skin. Alec inhales a shaky breath, daring a quick glance down at Jace's still very naked chest, before he remembers himself and snaps his gaze up. If Jace notices his slip, he doesn't mention it.

"Look. I don't know what's going on, I don't know what's gotten you so funny - but I'm here for you, Alec. We're  _parabatai._ " Jace squeezes Alec's shoulder, and Alec feels his knees go weak. Pathetic, really. "If something is bothering you, tell me. You can talk to me, I'm not going to judge you. I promise I can give good advice."

Jace offers him a crooked smile, and it's sweet and imperfect, the Jace that only Alec really gets to see - not the golden warrior, the daring Shadowhunter, just Jace, the same kid who used to crawl into Alec's bed at night because Alec helped chase off the nightmares.

Jace. His  _parabatai._

"My only problem is that you're not ready." Alec states, reverting back to his training, to the reason he'd even gone to Jace's room in the first place. "We're on the next patrol change. You need to gear up."

Jace's smile widens into a cocky grin, a daredevil glint in his eyes. "You don't think I could intimidate demons like this?" He steps back, gesturing at his torso with a dramatic sweep of his arm, his hand sliding off Alec's shoulder.

Alec feels a sigh inflating inside his chest. It's a little easier to refrain from looking this time around. "I don't think you could intimidate Max. Gear up, or I'm leaving without you."

Jace shakes his head, a bubble of laughter spilling out. It's light and warm and seeps beneath Alec's skin like it belongs there. "You wouldn't dare." Jace smirks. "You're my  _parabatai._  There's nowhere you can go, that I won't follow."

Alec swallows down the bitter taste painting his tongue. "There are a few places," He quips back, weakly, hoping that it will simply come off as irritation, or disinterest.

"Touche." Jace skips backwards in the direction he'd come, eyes on Alec's the entire time. "I'll be there in five."

"If I'm lucky." Alec mutters to himself, watching as Jace slips back into his room.

Alec is already strapped into his own gear, there's nothing propelling him towards other actions, and besides that, he finds he can't move -it's like his feet are rooted to the ground with invisible, sticky resin. The conversation hadn't done anything to chase the unbidden swoop of yearning inside his core, or the pull that tugs whenever he's around Jace, nor the flame that sparks at Jace's grin or his skin on Alec's. It never does.

Alec knows it's wrong. To have these feelings, about someone of the same gender, let alone of his  _parabatai_ , but the harder he attempts to squash them down, the stronger they grow. It's as much a part of him as Jace is, which only serves to make matters worse, because Alec is never without either of them, never with an escape.

He's dancing on the edge of a two-sided coin, torn between his desire to protect Jace, and his desire  _for_  Jace, because one cannot exist in harmony with the other. If the Clave were to find out, angel, if their  _parents_  were to find out, it would spell apocalyptic disaster, for the both of them; Alec refuses to be the pinnacle of Jace's destruction.

He can't love Jace. He can't live without him, either.

So instead, Alec ignores the heady rush of warmth that encompasses him at thought or sight or touch, he squashes his feelings and inclinations into a box deep inside his heart and marks it with an unbreakable rune.

It's for the best of everyone. Pandora opened her box. Look how well that turned out for her.

* * *

 

 

**III**

 

"Just ignore them. They're not worth your time, or energy."

Alec doesn't jump when Isabelle squeezes his forearm. If anything, his arms tighten behind his back, posture rigid and firm, unyielding. Isabelle is trying to help, and he understands that, he appreciates it, but he has more important things to focus on.

Jace is missing, stuck somewhere under Valentine's control and no one can find him. The running theory is that Valentine has a ship, because tracking doesn't work over water and the last thing he wants is to be found - and that's where Alec's priorities are right now.

Not with the sharp glares his parents keep shooting him; his mother, especially, seems to have adopted an acrimonious vendetta against him. He doesn't have the time to worry about what they think of him. He can't change the past, and no one can predict the future, but the present, where Jace ran off to join the Shadow World's greatest threat, is something he can, and will, pour his everything into.

"Mom and Dad's disappointment is my last concern right now." Alec slides his finger over the tablet screen, shifting through recent patrol reports.

There'd been a sighting of  _kappa_  demons - a distinctly water-based reptilian - a few days before, and Lydia suggested that studying the demons' movements might help them get a location on Valentine's ship. Alec hasn't found much of a pattern, and his eyes are starting to sting a bit, because he's been awake for thirteen hours straight on barely four hours of sleep, but he's determined to find something. He has to. The only connection he has to Jace at the moment is a distant and faint echo of their bond.  _He_ can't survive on that, and he's likely in a better situation than Jace, so there's no way that either of them will be able to keep going like this for much longer.

"We'll find Jace." Isabelle promises, her hand slipping away. She's looking more like herself, these days, though she's still carrying the same fatigue they all encompass. Her lipstick is bright and red, as is her loud dress, and he's grateful for some semblance of normalcy.

He needs something to hold onto, to keep him anchored.

"Have you found anything?" Lydia's tone is kind, if a little pressing. Alec gets it. Her straightforwardness is something he's always admired. She stands off to the side, hands settled on her hips, smile a thin, strained line.

"Nothing solid." Alec drags his free hand through his disheveled hair. He'd throw the tablet if they didn't need the information. "Kappa demons tend to go after mundanes, easy prey, they crawl out of lakes and beaches ... but these ones didn't attack anyone, they just sort of hovered. Taken down quickly, by all reports."

"Maybe it was supposed to be a message?" Lydia suggests. "Valentine has the Mortal Cup, if he's using it to control demons..." She draws off, quietly, brows stitching together in complex thought.

Alec hands the tablet to Isabelle, who fortunately takes it from him before his grip slackens. He leans forward, palms flat on the table before him, lungs heaving a never-ending exhale. There are tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, his skin is tingling with an unshakeable itch and he's one misinformed lead away from breaking down. The distance between Jace and himself, the unknown, the desperate urge to find Jace and protect him and keep him safe from the dangers of the world - it's all conspiring against him.

There's a nagging voice in the back of his mind, that fluctuates between Jace's voice, and his mother's, telling him it's his fault. That he's neglected his duties, as a brother and a  _parabatai_  and a friend, by not doing more to stop Jace from crossing through the portal.

He's failed. He'd promised Jace his protection when they bonded, and now anything that is happening to Jace is Alec's fault, and his disappearance is quickly becoming Alec's undoing.

Jace is at one end of a red string, Alec at the other, and the yarn between is unraveled and knotted and the more Alec tugs on it, the more tangled he finds it.

"Hey, Alec." Lydia doesn't reach out for him, doesn't comfort him by touch the way Isabelle would. She just stands there and lets her voice nudge him gently until he's aware enough to listen.

He raises his head,  _heavy is that which wears the crown_ , and locks his gaze on Lydia's. "Yeah?"

Lydia smiles, tight and sympathetic. "Take a break." She raises a hand when he parts his mouth to protest. "Get away from the Institute, take a walk, call Magnus - just, take a break. You need it."

"But Jace-"

"Jace needs you to stay alive." Isabelle interrupts gently, her eyes dark and imploring. "And if you keep going the way you are, you will burn yourself out, and you won't be helpful to anyone."

"It's not a suggestion, Alec." Lydia says, contrasting her words with a gentle smile. "You're free, disregarding any extenuating circumstances, to take time out for yourself. I don't care if that means you sit in Central Park and just eat ice-cream, as long as you're giving yourself a chance to relax."

Alec doesn't see how eating ice-cream is going to help him, but Lydia's stance, and expression, makes it pretty clear that he's not being given a choice in this.

"The world isn't going to stop spinning because you put yourself first." Isabelle declares, wrapping an arm around his waist. He sinks into her touch automatically, deflated. "Jace needs you to be on top-form. Your energy is connected and if yours is depleted, it could spell disaster for the both of you."

Alec knows she's right. Isabelle is always right. It's usually more helpful than it is irritating. He drops a kiss to the top of her head, because she's here and okay and at the moment, the only anchor he has.

"You'll tell me if you find anything?" He hates how desperate he sounds.

Lydia nods. "Of course. You'll be the first to know. I promise."

Alec thanks her, feeling defeat settle over him like a cloak. He has no idea what he's supposed to do. For the past two weeks, his thoughts have been consumed with finding Jace, he's barely spared thought to anything else.

Well. That, and Magnus.

They're yet to go on a date, a proper one, but they've been texting almost every day, and Magnus has been offering his services relentlessly, and the nerves that had been chasing Alec since they met have slowly been disappearing. He's beginning to feel comfortable around Magnus, like he does with few others - Magnus is the calm in the storm, he's special and ... and Alec doesn't want to taint that. He doesn't want to use Magnus as a distraction, because he's more than that.

Or. He should be. He isn't really anything, at the moment, because they haven't been on a single date, they're floating in limbo because Alec is too much of a mess without Jace to give Magnus the attention he deserves.

"Let me walk you to your room, brother." Isabelle suggests, kindly. "You can use the time to figure out what you want to do."

She's giving him both an in, an idea, and an out. Clearly, she wants him to call Magnus, but she also understands that it's simply not that easy for him. Her support is unfailing and it's in moments like these that Alec is thankful and in awe of it.

Isabelle wraps her hand around his arm and tugs him towards the living quarters. Her presence is warm and comforting and Alec can feel himself relaxing, as much as possible with the circumstances they're under.

"We're not trying to pressure you into doing anything you don't feel comfortable with." Isabelle glances at him sideways, lips tugged in a careful smile. "We're just concerned."

"I know," Alec offers her a weak smile. "I do appreciate it."

He doesn't mention that, beneath his frustration, it is kind of nice, to know that someone cares. His parents don't seem to. It's nice that someone does.

"Do you know what you're going to do?" Isabelle asks.

Alec rubs the back of his neck idly. He has an idea. "Maybe."

Isabelle's nose twitches, a sign she's trying to restrain a smile. It warms Alec's heart more than he'll admit. "Whatever you do," She inclines her head. "I hope you have fun."

Alec feels his mouth quirk up slightly. Isabelle hugs him in a weird, one-armed way, and it's tight and comforting and familiar, and Alec has to blink back tears. Isabelle studies him, a quick glance, and then exits his room, leaving him alone with his thoughts and a hesitantly forming idea.

Alec spares a few seconds, to ease out his breathing a little, before pulling his phone out. He taps his most recent call and ignores the stuttered beating of his heart.

"Hey, Magnus? Are you free tonight?"

 

* * *

 

 

Magnus sweeps past the front door of the Institute with all the grace and flair Alec has come to presume. His dark coat flares behind him, the buttons glinting silver, draped over a deep purple shirt with a cut that barely reaches his midriff. Necklaces layer the exposed skin, though not enough to hide much of anything, and his hands glint with rings when he waves a greeting at Alec.

Who has to take a deep inhale through his nose before he steps forward.

"Magnus," He tries not to mull over the word too much, despite the sweet way it tastes. "Hi."

Magnus smiles, all charms, though there's a softness to his dark eyes. His makeup is rather, minimal, Alec notices. For Magnus, at least. Shimmering onyx eyeshadow, a dusting of glitter along his cheekbones, a line of silver on his bottom lid. It's quite, understated.

He still looks gorgeous, of course, because he always does.

"Good evening, Alexander." Magnus' gaze sweeps down, and then back up Alec's form with a lazy ease. Alec feels the back of his neck heat, the flush no doubt spreading to his cheeks, but he ignores the urge to care.

He'd put effort into his outfit, for this reason. To show Magnus that he cares, that he's invested, that he wants to look good for this somewhat impromptu date, because Magnus always looks good, and Alec doesn't want to wear the same old, ordinary clothes.

It's intimidating, and he keeps fiddling with the cuffs of his grey Henley, but he'd picked the outfit himself, and he'd tried to style his hair, and he'd done it all  _himself._  He had, admittedly, gotten Isabelle's confirmation that he hadn't messed up along the way, but he'd gone to her  _afterwards_.

This, this thing between Magnus and himself, is exactly that - between he, and Magnus. And Alec wants to prove, not just to the others, but to himself, that he's not totally inept when it comes to these kinds of things. He can dress himself, and look nice.

Though nowhere near as good as Magnus. Magnus is - otherworldly. Ethereal. Carved from marble and stone and painted with the rich colours of the sky.

Not that Alec is ever able to say any of that aloud.

Magnus' eyes crinkle, just slightly at the corners, like he can't contain the force of his smile. Inside his chest, Alec's heart does an odd floppy thing. "You look very handsome tonight, Alexander." His coal lashes flutter, the corner of his mouth quirking languidly. "I'm quite impressed."

"Thanks." Alec swallows, unsticking his tongue from the roof of his suddenly very dry mouth. "You look-" There's no word in his vocabulary to encompass how great Magnus looks. "Well, you look ... very - you - I uh, I like your-"

Magnus laughs softly, and Alec uses the brief ease to drag a hand over his face, muffling a groan behind his palm. Magnus is practically beaming, when Alec manages to recover enough to return contact. He reaches out, slowly, giving Alec a chance to pull away, as though he'd be stupid enough to dare, and brushes the back of his hand against the cut of Alec's jaw, leaving a buzz in his wake.

"I appreciate the compliment." Magnus states, soothing out the wrinkled situation with a warm gaze and kind smile. He drops his hand, though not before Alec catches it with his own.

Magnus' hand is bigger than Alec expects, though it slots nicely against his own, radiating a warmth that seeps gently into Alec's skin, like the calm rays of a setting sun. Alec finds himself squeezing it, as though to make sure the moment is real.

Magnus squeezes back, solid and reaffirming.

A pointed cough sounds behind them, and one glance at the flash of anger in Magnus' eyes is all Alec needs to ascertain who the noise came from. He steels himself, and turns around, not relinquishing his grounding hold on Magnus' hand.

"Mother." He keeps his posture straight, respectful. "Father."

Robert at the least has some grace. He nods at Alec, and then Magnus, in as much of a greeting as they can expect. His hands are clasped behind his back, and it's clear that Maryse is the one taking the lead in the expected conversation.

"Alec." Maryse snaps, her voice low. "What do you think you are doing?"

Alec frowns, glancing down at his hand, pale white in comparison to Magnus' bronze, and then back up at the man himself, who offers a smile with only his sparkling eyes.

"I believe I'm going out to dinner." He states, because that's where Magnus' offers had been leading on the phone earlier. "Ethiopian, right?"

Magnus nods, but doesn't seem to dare anything more. He loosens his hand, as though to pull it away, but Alec just squeezes it gently and leans closer to him. His parents had been in the church hall. They'd seen Alec storm down the aisle, and they'd seen him pull Magnus in by the lapels of his coat, and they'd certainly caught sight of Alec pressing his mouth to Magnus'. It's not like it's a secret anymore.

Alec has spent far too long keeping himself a secret. He's not going to do it to Magnus, too.

"You can't be serious," Maryse hisses, her eyes flashing with anger.

Alec feels his own frustration simmering beneath the surface, but refuses to indulge in it. He's not going to stoop to his mother's level. There's more to her question than what is initially put forth, and Alec isn't foolish enough to underestimate her tenacity.

"I am very serious." He states, in a low and controlled tone. He refuses to be demeaned by his own mother. "Now, if you don't mind, we'll be going."

He turns, prepared to kindly lead Magnus out of the Institute so he can apologise profusely for his horribly disrespectful parents, because it's not fair that Magnus is subjected to their prejudice just because he's picking Alec up for a date ... thing - and would achieve exactly that, were his mother to let him go instead of tugging forcefully at his arm.

Magnus' hand falls from his grip, but Alec isn't given the chance to reach for it again.

"Alexander Lightwood." Maryse spits his name through tightly gritted teeth. There's a thin vein protruding from her forehead, and her eyes are ablaze with an anger brighter than Alec has ever been at the receiving end of. For a heartbeat, he's intimidated.

And then he thinks about her words, after the wedding-that-wasn't, the way she had dragged Magnus through the mud and pratted on about how selfish Alec was being for tainting the Lightwood name, because she honestly believed it was all a dig back at them, not Alec finally being comfortable with himself for the first time in twenty years.

His mother is desperate. To reclaim her hold over him, to mold him back into the perfect son he used to be. What she's struggling to understand is that Alec won't ever fit into that mold again. He's a completely different shape, and trying to make him into something he isn't would be as futile as forcing a corner puzzle piece into a center gap.

It's never going to work.

"How dare you be so  _selfish_?" Maryse flicks a sharp glare towards Magnus, who's turned away to allow mother-and-son a modicum of privacy. "You're just going to gallivant around the city with a  _warlock_  while Jace, your  _parabatai_  is with Valentine?"

Robert's low, pleading  _"Maryse"_ goes unheard.

"Yesterday, you were comparing Jace to cancer." Alec reminds her. The rune on his hip throbs, but Alec has become accustomed to the different sensations, and this one comes purely from Jace's absence, the mere mention of him enough to poke painfully at their bond. "And now you are trying to use him against me?"

Alec scoffs. He actually pities his mother for her narrow-minded view. "How dare  _you_  accuse me of being selfish, when all I have done for the past two weeks is try and find Jace - something you continue to place lower and lower on your list of priorities. You care more about the Clave breathing down your neck for housing Valentine's children, than you do about finding Jace."

Alec's skin is vibrating, but he can feel a weight being slowly lifted from his shoulders. Another hidden burden cast to the wind. Something he probably should have done earlier, though, as the saying goes, it is better late than never.

"I'm sure that fraternising with a Downworlder will help you find Jace. You talk to me about priorities as though yours are holy and just?" Maryse shakes her head, pitying. Anger flares inside Alec, but he tamps it down. For now. "You are still a child, Alec, with a child's temper. Your teenage rebellion is, perhaps, a little later than expected, but that is all this is."

Something inside of Alec snaps. "You would know all about teenage rebellions, wouldn't you?" He hisses, bristling with anger. "You weren't much older than me when you were in the Circle."

A part of him, deep inside mourns the relationship he used to have with his parents, but it's clear that he's never going to have that back, and he refuses to compromise, upon himself or anyone else he cares about. Jace is missing, yes, and Alec is desperate to find him - but he can't shrink back from his own life. It's as Magnus said to him, on the phone as Alec had stuttered his reluctance - if he fails to grant time for the things he ... cares about, he's going to forget what he's even fighting for.

Alec loves Jace. But Jace had made the decision to hop through the portal, and Alec has to trust that Jace knew what he was doing, that he's strong enough to be okay until they find him. Pouring over dead-ends isn't doing anything, but getting away, getting a clear head, just might.

Alec straightens up, peering down at his mother. He's old enough to decide for himself. And he has.

"What happened to you?" Maryse asks, voice a pained whisper. "My son..."

"I'm still your son." Alec reminds her, swallowing past the lump in his throat. "I'm still the same person I have  _always_  been."

"No," Maryse jerks her head to the side, before fixing sharp eyes on him. "You're not. I do not recognise the man standing before me. This person in front of me is not my son. He's as good as a stranger."

Alec's breath stutters in his throat, but Maryse has spun on her heel before he's able to spin any retort. Robert's gaze is downcast, solemn, but he manages to drag it up enough to land on Alec's. There's something undeniably mournful about the press of his mouth. Alec feels like he's lost something tonight.

"Have your phone on," Robert says, his words catching Alec by surprise, yet another hit of sharp, stinging emotional whiplash. "If something happens, we'll need to get into contact with you."

Alec nods, slowly, his body playing catch-up with his mind. "Of course."

Robert darts a glance between Alec, and Magnus, who'd stepped forward to hover a gentle hand near the small of Alec's back, and inclines his head thoughtfully. "Have fun," He says, after a moment, before turning down the same direction Maryse had stalked off.

Alec stands there, shaken to his core, certain that Magnus' grounding presence is the only thing keeping him upright. For weeks - though probably longer if he's being honest with himself - he's been pulled in a thousand different directions, stretched thin until there's nothing left to give, and he's done. He's done giving.

For once, in his life, he wants to take.

His  _parabatai_  is angel-knows-where, his parents have figuratively disowned him, and his little sister is precariously balancing on a spinning-top of priorities. Alec can't keep going like this.

"I hope the food is as good as you claim," Alec reaches for Magnus' hand, a delicate sigh slipping out when Magnus' palm curls around his.

Magnus curves out a careful smile. "Hungry?" He teases, good-naturedly.

Alec relishes in the press of Magnus' hand against his, as he pulls him gently towards the front doors. The quicker he gets out of the stifling Institute, the easier it will be to breathe. He glances at Magnus from the corner of his eyes. Magnus' smile is charming and butterfly-inducing, but more than that - it gives off an aura of comfort.

The implication that Alec can be himself around Magnus, safe and without judgement, in a way that he can't really be anywhere else.

"I'm starving."

 

* * *

 

 

**IV**

 

Alec isn't sure how they ended up here.

He's not complaining. Not by any stretch of the imagination. It's just - one minute, Magnus was shaking a cocktail and stitching a tale of the time he'd been a pirate, a genuine pirate in South America, and the next minute he had Alec pressed against the nearest brick pillar, hands slipping beneath his olive t-shirt, burning on Alec's waist.

It's a fairly quick escalation, but this is their ... fourth, fifth? Fifth date, and there's very little awkwardness between them, now, everything is exciting and heated and passionate and Alec can't get enough of it.

Apparently, neither can Magnus.

"Remind me," Magnus huffs against Alec's neck, his breath hot and searing. "To send a prayer, or something, to Raziel."

Alec smiles dazedly, tipping his head back without much thought. "Raziel? Why?"

Magnus pulls back, thumb circling firmly against Alec's hip. Magnus has already stripped down to just a loose silk shirt, but to be fair he also had on a lot more layers than Alec. Alec strokes his thumb along the wingspan of Magnus' collarbone, tracing the thin necklaces draping from his neck, paying special attention to the small one that rests against his sternum, the only embellishment a tiny silver  _A._

"For blessing his chosen ones," Magnus trails his hand up over Alec's ribs. "With  _fantastic_  abs."

His nails, currently painted a midnight blue if Alec remembers correctly, scrape lightly over Alec's abdomen, drawing stuttered moans from deep inside of him. Magnus smirks, tilting his head up to nuzzle along Alec's jaw, lips soft and parted. He's slowly unravelling Alec like a spool of thread, and it's such an abrupt change from only seconds before when Alec was being pushed towards the brick column - not a bad change. Just, unexpected.

Really, he shouldn't be surprised. It's not like Magnus is exactly, reserved, and certainly not the way Alec tends to be. Magnus is sure-footed and proud and not afraid to ask for what he wants, or indulge Alec in what  _he_ wants, and it's fantastic.

Even if Alec sometimes feels like he's lagging behind, both in experience and confidence, and dragging Magnus with him.

Magnus nips sharply at the crook of Alec's neck, drawing his attention with an incredibly pleased smirk. Alec grips Magnus' arm tightly, the muscles firm and rippling beneath his hand, a low heat burning deep inside of him. The brick digs into the slip of skin exposed by his hitched-up shirt, but the discomfort is eased slightly by the press of Magnus' fingers, deep enough to leave a fleeting bruise, a personal mark, a temporary reminder of everything Alec is somehow lucky enough to have.

Magnus sucks at the juncture of Alec's neck, teeth scraping gently, sparks falling from his fingers and sinking into Alec's skin. Alec loves it when Magnus' hold on his magic loosens, loves knowing that he's having a similar effect on Magnus, that his boyfriend always has on him. That Magnus is so,  _enrapt_ , with Alec that he can't spare the attention to focus on his magic. The sparks are, usually, harmless - although there have been a few times when Magnus decided to use his weakening control to his advantage, all of which ended up leaving Alec squirming beneath invisible hands and a persistent, and very real, mouth.

The very same one mapping a path across his collar. Magnus has Alec's shirt rucked up practically to his armpits, his hands tracing over aforementioned "fantastic" abs, but he refuses to dare his kisses lower than Alec's neck, and it's beginning to make Alec a little agitated.

He sighs, which quickly turns into a retracted inhale as Magnus tweaks a nipple between his thumb and index finger. Magnus smirks, in that infuriatingly smug way, eyes alight with wicked pleasure. The low burning inside of Alec spikes, and he surges forward, hunger calling to him like a siren, until he has Magnus' bottom lip between his own, his hand sliding to cradle the back of Magnus' head, fingers pressed to the nape to prevent him from moving.

Magnus gasps and Alec swallows it eagerly, hand curling against his neck. Magnus slots his leg between Alec's, pressing forward until his hip is angled  _just right_  - Alec pulls back with a heavy gasp, flames of desire licking at his skin until he's overheated, pure and unadulterated  _want_  pooling in his gut. He rests his forehead against Magnus' shoulder, the hand not on Magnus' neck skating across the waistband of his ridiculously tight pants. There's a tightness to his lungs, like he can't get enough air in despite how hard he tries, and his heart is pounding a beat of its own, but none of it is bad.

It's all so, so  _good._

"Alexander?" Magnus asks, soft and cautious and caring. As always. He relaxes, hands gentle on Alec's hips, lips close enough to brush against Alec's temple if he just tilted right. But he doesn't, because he's giving Alec time and patience ... it would be infuriating if it wasn't so damn endearing.

"I'm - it's, it's just-" Alec groans. How is that he can never find the words he needs when he needs them most? It's a curse. Especially around someone as beautifully eloquent and collected as Magnus.

"We can stop," Magnus says, stroking an unintelligible pattern over Alec's hip. "Watch a movie. Actually have that drink I was making, before. If you'd like."

It's an opening, a door, a clear exit - whatever Alec needs. Except, what Magnus thinks Alec needs, or wants, isn't that at all.

"No," Alec would shake his head, if he could move it. Instead, he tightens the hand on Magnus' back, silently pleading for him to remain close. "No, I don't want to stop."

"Okay," Magnus continues his idle strokes. Alec can practically hear the smile in his voice. "What  _do_ you want?"

What does he want? A loaded question, and one that probably deserves some consideration. Except, Alec's never been good at restraint. Or thinking before he speaks. He's more of a - speak from your mind, or heart, and consider the consequences later once they already apply - kind of person.

"You," He whispers against Magnus' neck, hoping it's loud enough to be heard, because he's not sure he could repeat it. His cheeks flare with unbidden heat, his response hanging heavy in the thick air.

Alec thinks he hears Magnus' breath hitch. "Well." Magnus clears his throat. Something akin to pride, with a hint of something deeper, flutters in Alec's chest. "That's ... certainly something I can offer. Happily."

Alec lifts his head then, catching the awestruck sparkle in Magnus' eyes before the warlock seems to catch himself and soothes it away. Magnus tilts his head and gently brushes his lips over Alec's.

"Wait," Alec whispers, his mind clear enough to consider their situation without the muddled haze of desire that falls when Magnus touches him, with mouth or hand. Magnus pulls back, abruptly, though his hands remain on Alec's waist.

Alec smiles, cradling Magnus' jaw. "I was just going to suggest we move to the couch." Alec says, stroking his thumb along Magnus' cheek, certain he's tracking glitter onto the pad, but not caring all that much. "Where we can, you know, have more room."

Magnus gazes at him, fond and considerate. "That sounds like a plan I can certainly get behind." He leans in, pressing what is supposed to be a chaste kiss to Alec's lips, though it quickly deepens.

When they eventually pull back, the edges of Alec's mind are clouded and his smile is undoubtedly lopsided, and Magnus is looking at him like he holds the secrets of the universe. And, yet, he's still reserved. Waiting for Alec to make the first move, to decide he's comfortable with the proposed course of actions.

Alec pokes gently at Magnus' shoulder, until he steps back, allowing a slight gap between them. Daring a smirk, Alec reaches for the hem of his shirt and tugs it off in one fell sweep, discarding it to the ground where it won't be in the road. He's not as self-conscious about Magnus seeing him like this, not like he used to be, when the idea of Magnus being able to see him without clothes was somehow akin to being raw and open and visible, something Alec's never really had to deal with, before Magnus came around.

Now, Alec likes being visible. He likes the hungry light that flashes in Magnus' eyes, likes the low sweeping gaze that Magnus trails over his bare torso - he even kind of likes the flush that creeps up his own neck at being at the receiving end of such a levelled gaze.

Magnus blinks, a dazed smile curving.  _"Alexander,"_  The name comes out in a tight whisper, accentuated by stray blue sparks that fall from the ends of his fingertips.

Alec glances down, almost in surprise, before glancing up through his eyelashes. Magnus called him innocent, once. Alec would like to think he's not so fitting of that term anymore. "What? Just, getting it out of the road."

Magnus' eyes darken, slowly, like a cloud passing over the sun. "I think calling you Nephilim is a misjudgment," Magnus declares, reaching out to wrap his hand around Alec's wrist, his thumb resting over Alec's erratic pulse. "There's nothing angelic about you, my dear."

Alec lets Magnus lead him towards the couch, catching the slide of Magnus' tongue on his bottom lip. He wets his own mouth, everything suddenly very dry, and very, very hot. "Apart from my abs, right?" He dares.

Magnus spins, eyes narrowed slightly. There's something entirely irresistible about being on the receiving end of such a look, although Alec is aware it could just be Magnus, himself, who is irresistible. Magnus stares, as though he's still comprehending Alec's admittedly weak attempt at a joke, and then all of a sudden Alec finds himself sitting on the couch, Magnus perched comfortably in his lap.

Shadowhunters reflexes don't have anything on Magnus Bane.

"I cannot believe how wrong I was about you," Magnus states, resting his hands on Alec's chest. Alec grips Magnus' thighs, close enough to his hips to ensure that he won't fall off, because Alec is sure that would bring the mood down a fair bit.

Magnus closes the distance just enough that Alec can count the individual flecks of lighter colours in Magnus' dark brown eyes. He hovers, close enough to touch but still not close enough, his breath ghosting lightly over Alec's half-parted mouth.

"You're a man of wicked surprises, Alexander." Magnus teases a kiss to the corner of Alec's mouth. "I think I've figured you out, and then you tilt the axis and catch me off-guard. Something that, I might add, doesn't happen to me all that often."

"Well," Alec's breath is shaky, his pulse roaring in his ears. Magnus is radiating impossible warmth, and all Alec can think about is the form hidden beneath his silk top, the ridges of his equally toned abdomen. "I have to keep you on your toes, somehow."

Magnus huffs a gentle laugh, hand trailing up to Alec's jaw. "You certainly do that," He admits, allowing Alec a reprieve by closing the miniscule distance between them. His mouth is warm against Alec's, but patient too, as though they have all the time in the world and he intends on making the most of it.

Alec is usually far less patient, but Magnus has this uncanny, innate ability to quiet his mind and draw his focus to the kiss, to Magnus' ring-adorned hands and the delightful weight of the man straddling his legs. He pushes into the kiss, hands creeping beneath Magnus' shirt, exploring the skin beneath. He doesn't startle at the flat planes of Magnus' navel - he had, at first, because the lack of it is not something he'd been expecting, but now it's natural and assumed to not find anything there. It's just a part of Magnus, another puzzle piece that makes up the gorgeous man who stirs undefinable feeling inside of Alec.

Magnus peppers soft kisses along Alec's jaw, teasing at the spot beneath his ear, the pressure too light to do anything but tempt Alec closer and closer to the edge of a bottomless canyon.

Alec tilts his head to the side, allowing Magnus better leverage, because he's a man of little restraint and the bare scrape of Magnus' teeth against his soft neck is deliciously irresistible. Magnus shifts, hands falling to the hem of his top, but Alec is quick to stop him. His hands cover Magnus', the bumps and decorations of Magnus' rings poking at the underside of his fingers, not that Alec minds.

"Let me," He asks, his voice a deep rumble. "Please."

Magnus closes his eyes, lashes casting ley lines down his cheeks, and lets his hands fall down to caress Alec's ribs. Alec fiddles slightly with the hem of the shirt, not really wishing to damage it in any way. Once he feels his hold is secure enough, he drags it up slowly, teasing himself with the reveal of Magnus' golden torso. Magnus bends enough for Alec to pull it over his head, mindful of the chains hanging from his neck - they both remember the minor fiasco that Alec's first attempt at, essentially disrobing Magnus had been.

Fortunately, Magnus had encouraged Alec to laugh about it, then. Now, the atmosphere feels too thick with potential and want, to laugh about past mistakes. As soon as the top is off, Magnus clicks his fingers, moving the garment somewhere it won't be a distraction.

Alec takes a moment to just look. He still, occasionally, has trouble grappling with the idea that he  _can_ , that he can look, and touch, and if he really wants, to map the ridges of Magnus' torso with an open mouth. Before Magnus came around, he was never able to have what he wanted.

He's still working on the fact that now, he can.

For so long it had been an impossible dream - not necessarily touching Magnus, or before then Jace, but just touching a man in general, being this close and intimate with someone of the same gender. The thought of being that way with a girl made him cringe, and a little sick, but the thought of being with a boy was, forbidden and hopeless. It was never a possibility.

Now, it is. And Alec doesn't doubt it, can't doubt it, because it's all so  _real._

The weight of Magnus in his lap, the yearning in his core, the reflected desire in Magnus's heavy-lidded gaze, the contrast of silver against bronze before his level of sight.

"You're gorgeous," He gushes, the words leaving him without permission. His cheeks flare. It feels a bit, obvious, to state such a thing. Magnus  _is_  gorgeous, but it's unlikely that Alec is the first to tell him that.

There's a whole encyclopedia of better, more eloquent words he could have used to compliment Magnus. Terms that encompass the beauty that Magnus is, both inside and out.

Magnus is smiling, despite Alec's lack of originality, and it's heartwarming enough to chase off the doubt that had begun to creep in.

"Why, thank you darling." Magnus rakes a languid gaze down Alec's body, the corner of his mouth turning up with a satisfied curve. "You are,  _quite_ good-looking, yourself. Unreasonably so, actually."

Alec, a little apprehensively, settles his hands just below Magnus' ribs. Magnus is all lean muscles disguised beneath taut golden skin and endless flexibility, a stark contrast to Alec's pale, stocky shoulders and the coarse spread of hair over his chest.

Magnus is  _beautiful_.

"You don't believe me." Magnus presumes, the light in his eyes dampening a little. He traces a pained nail down Alec's sternum, his other hand gripping Alec's upper arm. "Do you?"

Alec shakes his head. That's not it, not really. "It's not that I don't believe you-" That sounds too much like he thinks Magnus is lying, which is far from being the case. "It's just that, I don't - I guess, I don't see it."

Alec would really like to return to making out with Magnus, instead of being heavily scrutinised. It's far more pleasant when their lips are busy with kissing instead of talking.

"It's just - you're - you know, you." Alec pulls his bottom lip in, teeth pressing a gentle indent. "You're, so - hot - and it's not fair, for you to look that good, but you do, and sometimes I don't know I ended up here, but I'm too selfish to question it because I don't want ... I don't want to lose this."

Magnus isn't typically prone to being speechless. It's not common and Alec hasn't been privy to it very often. He's not sure what to do about it. Magnus blinks, slowly, parting his mouth to speak before closing it again. Before Alec has the chance to let regret properly wash over him, Magnus is surging forward, catching Alec's mouth in a quick and heated kiss, hands scouring up Alec's chest to clutch at his shoulders.

It's a kiss of passion and desperation and urgency and Alec finds himself immediately melting into it. It's surprising, because Alec is usually the one who has to depend on actions because words are always failing him. It's weird to have the positions reversed, and yet easy to respond and sink into, because it's familiar and comfortable territory, the opposite of speaking his feelings had been.

"I'm not going to say you're perfect," Magnus whispers the words against Alec's cheek as he peppers his face with insistent kisses. "Because I don't think perfection exists. It's an unachievable and ridiculous concept."

Alec rests his hand over Magnus' heart, calmed by the steady, if quick, pace. It's more controlled than his own, and that's reassuring.

Magnus pulls back only far enough to rest his forehead against Alec's. "I do, however, think you are wonderful, and kind and genuine and so ridiculously attractive that it all pains me at times because I think there's no way you're actually real."

Alec traces a casual mark over Magnus' heart, without sparing much consideration to the curves and flicks of the symbolic rune. "I'm real."

Magnus grins, but it's too soft. Too fond. Too much. "I know. And I'm very grateful for that." He presses a kiss to the center of Alec's forehead. "I'm not a stupid man, Alexander. I'm quite wise. Which means I know when I have something good, and I know when I've found something, or someone, worth cherishing."

Magnus drops a kiss on the end of Alec's nose, and then his lips, sweet and slow and easy. So, easy.

"You're not going to lose this." Magnus promises. "Or me."

He glances up at Alec, and it takes Alec a, disappointingly long few seconds to realise the difference. His glamour has dropped, revealing golden, shining cat eyes that glow with adoration and apprehension.

Alec reaches up and brushes his thumb beneath Magnus' eye, positively enchanted. He's sure that his jaw is dropped unattractively, and the heat from before has returned with full-force, sweeping over him in waves of arousal, but none of it matters. All of it can wait.

"You're beautiful." Alec utters with honest conviction.

Magnus' smile is a gradual thing, but it's his eyes that shine the brightest. They gravitate together like planets in orbit, pressing closer until distance is barely a concept and there's a chance their souls will intertwine as their hearts already have.

It's a delicate and precious moment, worth cherishing. Which Alec, being Alec, manages to disrupt quite spectacularly when Magnus tries to lower him horizontally on the couch and they discover that Alec is too tall to fit, one leg sticking out, foot planted flat on the ground, angle awkward enough to almost tip them both over.

Magnus, brilliance incarnate that he is, suggests moving to the bedroom, which turns out to be the best idea either of them could have had.

 

* * *

 

**V  **

 

"Light reading?"

Alec hooks his head over Magnus' shoulder, one hand squeezing his elbow. It's been a long day, for both of them apparently.

Magnus leans back, his cheek pressed to Alec's. The library is, for the most part, another dimension - it's activated in place of the guest bedroom with the aid of complicated magic and hand movements, and one cannot exist at the same time as the other.

It's remained the library since Jace was kindly kicked out, and if Alec can't find Magnus anywhere else, it's often because he's resigned to research there. It's almost a black-hole for the amount of time Magnus spends there, looking up relics or artefacts or translating both ancient and modern languages.

Alec learnt a while ago that it's best to leave Magnus to his work, to hover around the edges and offer support in pressure-easing massages or steaming cups of tea, because once Magnus gets in a zone such as this, it's unlikely he'll snap out of it very easily.

"I've heard wind of rumours about mundanes asking around for curses," Magnus admits, flicking over a worn page of the heavy book before him. "A few fatal ones, though not all of them. Love curses, which can be just as bad, and simple ones relating more to just generally making people miserable."

Alec tuts, dropping a kiss to Magnus' shoulder. "But they're only rumours?" He asks. It's none of his business, professionally, it's Magnus' jurisdiction, but that doesn't mean he can't be supportive.

"At the moment." Magnus releases a tired sigh. "To your surprise, I'm sure, the problem isn't the mundanes. They believe they know the Shadow World, but they don't, and you can just as easily give someone who asks for a curse on their ex a small potion that's essentially the same as swapping out shampoo for hair dye."

"The real problem, then..." Alec has an idea, but he knows better than to presume to know the ways of warlocks.

"Young warlocks tend to have quite a chip on their shoulder," Magnus admits, tracing a line on the worn page. "Power is new to them, and common sense isn't always a match for an ego boost. These mundanes come to them, pleading for help - if they find the right warlock, with both skills and a desire to prove them, they could get  _exactly_  what they're looking for."

Alec runs his hand up and down Magnus' arm. "Is there anything I can do to help?" He asks. "As, you know, just  _me_."

As a Shadowhunter, there's very little. If an unsanctioned demon summoning or something equally as, dangerous, was going underway then he'd have some leeway in stepping in, but it's nothing more than hearsay at the moment.

"The offer is sweet, but I don't think so." Magnus allows himself a brief moment of reprieve, twisting in his seat so that he's facing Alec properly. "I might be here for a while, I understand if you don't want to stay."

"If I leave, who'll stop you from burning yourself out?" Alec asks. He bends down kissing Magnus' temple. "Who'll remind you to eat, and sleep, and take time out to relax?"

Even before Magnus responds, the awe in his eyes is answer enough. He reaches up to cup Alec's cheek, thumb stroking absently. "You'll really stay?"

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be."

 

* * *

 

 

The coffee machine hums to life, the only sound in the otherwise quiet early morning. It's a bright day already, though the sun is still rising, and the warm rays paint the room with refreshingly golden light. Alec pulls open the overheard cupboard, revealing a colourful and extensive array of mugs - some of which are, as it turns out, his.

His mark on Magnus' apartment isn't vast, but it's little things that accumulate over time, that signal his progressive move into Magnus' apartment. He doesn't, technically, still live at the Institute, considering he spends 90% of the week at Magnus' - he has a section of the closet set for just him, a draw in the ornate mahogany chest, a toothbrush in the ensuite, a spot by the door for his gear and bow, a worn-out paperback sitting on the coffee table.

And a white mug, with a single rainbow arrow running along it.

The coffee machine beeps to signal its completion, but Alec has already begun to pour. The scent of freshly brewed coffee is one of the sure-fire ways to wake him up in the morning, and considering that he has a meeting with the Consul in an hour and a summons to the Seelie Court in four, he's going to need to be alert, otherwise he could burn bridges on both sides and leave the New York Institute, and its jurisdiction, stranded.

Alec knows that a good leader leaves their personal feelings behind when making tactical decisions. Without his caffeine fix, he's entirely likely to blurt out something inappropriate and damaging - despite how true he might find it.

Alec hopes, as he always does, that Magnus will wake and they'll get a chance to have some time together before he has to dash back to the Institute. Unfortunately, the chances of that happening aren't really in his favour; when Alec had managed to disentangle himself from Magnus' vice-like grip, his boyfriend was still visibly caught deep in the throes of slumber, and  _his_  appointments aren't until far later in the day.

And none of them are with Consul Dieudonné.

Alec stirs a reasonable amount of sugar into his coffee, appeasing to the fact he is apparently already bitter than his coffee. The only downside to almost living with Magnus is how difficult it is to tear himself away in the morning. When it was a rare, and special occasion, he'd wake up early and wait for Magnus, taking the chance to admire the sweet, relaxed look on his face as he sleeps. It was something to be cherished, certainly, but the guilt always found a way to creep in and nudge him back to work, because he'd spent the night somewhere else.

He has no such guilt now. If he feels bad about anything, it's leaving Magnus' apartment - but that's an inherently selfish emotion on his part and not one he likes to consider much.

He can do it. He can make it through the day, and then he can come back  _here_ , to his safe haven, the place that's quickly becoming synonymous with home.

Alec is swallowing the last dregs of his first cup when Magnus waltzes into the room, hair soft and untouched, bare-faced, a cobalt robe with silver trimmings tied at his waist and slippers that match his black silk pants. Alec quietly adores the way Magnus looks in the morning, all gentle and warm, but more than the look itself, he appreciates the sentiment behind it; that Magnus trusts him enough to be so candid and exposed is undeniably humbling.

"Good morning," Alec greets, reaching up to pull a mug out for Magnus. He settles on a matte black with 'I'm on stand-bi' in pink, purple and blue, and makes sure to add a generous helping of sugar, and cream.

Magnus is standing a lot closer when he turns around, making small grabbing gestures with his hands. Alec hands the mug over carefully, unable to keep the smile dampened. Magnus takes a deep sip, eyes fluttering closed for a fleeting second. He looks more alert when he opens them, as though a mere drop of caffeine had been enough to bring him to proper consciousness.

"It's always a good morning when you're here." Magnus says, holding his mug with one hand, and reaching for Alec with the other. The tips of his fingers are cool when they press against Alec's neck, but his mouth is soft and sweet - from more than just his over-compensated drink.

"Thank you." Magnus says, bumping his nose against Alec's.

"For the drink?" Alec presumes. He shrugs it off, an odd half-smile spreading. "It was nothing, I was already making one for myself."

Magnus takes a long sip of his coffee, looking at Alec over the rim. His glamour isn't up. It usually isn't in the morning, but the sight still sparks something inside of Alec.

"Actually," Magnus strokes his finger slowly up Alec's bare arm, mouth quirked ever so slightly. "That's not,  _entirely_ , what I was thanking you for. Although it is delicious."

Alec knows that he should be getting ready, his meeting is in thirty minutes, and though Magnus had implied last night that he'd be more than happy to portal Alec in, tardiness is not an activity Alec enjoys practicing. Despite that, he doesn't move, Magnus having piqued his interest enough to keep him rooted where he stands.

Magnus drops a chaste kiss to the corner of Alec's mouth. "Thank you," His voice ghosts across Alec's cheek, his lips brushing with the words. "For everything."

Alec's heart skips a beat, which doesn't fill him with the dread it rightfully should because that's certainly not healthy in any way, and it's far too early in the morning for him to be reminded of the endless depth to his feelings for Magnus.

Alec squeezes Magnus' shoulder, and presses his own kiss to Magnus' cheek. "I love you," He says, making sure his hand lingers on Magnus' arm before he walks off towards the bedroom, knowing without an ounce of doubt that if he doesn't act on what little self-restraint he has now, he'll never make it to the Institute.

And, if Magnus ends up following him with the intention of pressing him against the back of the bedroom door, and expressing to Alec just how much he loves him back ... well. It's worth it.

 

* * *

 

 

A few days ago, Magnus had given Alec a book.

A blue leather notebook, thick and full, with silver embossed writing on the front:  _MAGNUS BANE. A BRIEF HISTORY._ He'd dropped it on the coffee table in front of Alec without warning, though an arguably healthy amount of apprehension had retained, and fallen gracefully onto the armchair behind him.

They haven't talked about it. Not since then. Magnus had admitted, at Alec's curious glance, that it was a hand-written recording of his life, or rather, the greatest hits. The parts he is willing to share, the parts that Alec is welcome to.

Alec is, if he admits it to himself, a little scared.

The notebook is flowing with stories, tales and anecdotes and pieces of Magnus' soul, and it's just there, at Alec's fingertips. He's sure that Magnus hadn't meant to drop a weight on Alec's shoulders, that his intention was purely to peel back the curtains - but he has. There's an extra burden on Alec's shoulders now, a decision he has to make, hundreds of decisions, in actuality.

Does he read it, or does he let it go? If he does decide to read it, how much? One part. Two. Half the notebook or all of it? Does he try and spread it out, or does he rush through it all in as short a time as possible? Soak it all in. Once he's read, providing he decides to, though regardless of how long it takes - does he try and talk to Magnus about it, or does he wait for Magnus to approach him?

Alec's mind is still whirring, days later, and each glance at the notebook is another pin in an incomprehensible map spread out in his mind, choices and decisions reaching out in all directions. He wants to know about Magnus' past, wants to discover who Magnus really is, the tales of good and bad and in-between that make up the man he's fallen in love with, because no one's life is black and white and Alec's already gotten a glimpse at Magnus' complexity, he can only imagine what else there is to know, what greatness Magnus has witnessed and contributed to.

Magnus co-invented the portal. The ideas of what else he could have achieved are boundless.

But Alec doesn't want to read about it.

He wants to hear about Magnus from the man himself. Clearly, that's not an easy feat, and Alec understands that, he's not expecting anything - the fact that Magnus was so willing to write it down in the first place is heartwarming and incredible, but it's still a little ... impersonal. It's a recount, not a conversation.

Alec wants to  _talk_  to Magnus about his past. He wants to know, but once Magnus is ready and comfortable. If Magnus feels that the only way he can currently tell Alec these tales is through written word, then Alec is more than happy to wait until the day comes that Magnus wants to  _tell_  him, with that rich voice of his that sings the tune of Alec's heart.

It's possible, of course, that Magnus won't ever get to that stage. Alec understands, and of course respects that. He might not be a part of Magnus' past, but he can be involved with his present, he can give Magnus his future, and that's what really matters to him.

Not what Magnus has done with others. But what Alec will do with him.

 

* * *

 

 

Magnus is sitting out on the balcony when Alec returns later that night. Alec drops his weapons and holster but keeps on his gear; having just been trekking through the streets of Brooklyn, he's all too aware of how cool the evening air is.

Magnus turns when Alec steps out, but his smile is fragile and doesn't quite reach his muted eyes. "Evening, darling. You're home early."

"Yeah," Alec shuts the door behind him, heart pitter-pattering at the notion of home. "The Institute got a bit, stuffy, you know? I couldn't stay there any longer."

He crosses to the chaise lounge slowly, something tight inside of him relaxing at the glass of red on the glass table. It's Magnus',  _I've had a bad day and I want to relax_  drink, which means that he's down, but not crashing through the atmosphere.

"I must admit, I am surprised." Magnus conjures a glass of rosé and hands it to Alec with a faint smile. "How did the meetings go?"

"Well, in rather disheartening news, it was easier to discuss the current state of the Shadow World with the Seelie Queen, than it was to try and convince the Consul that the  _noble Shadowhunter race_  aren't superior beings and we shouldn't continue acting like we are."

Alec's grateful he can be sarcastic and venting around Magnus. It's a load off his chest he never used to disrupt, but can now, thankfully, shed with a few ranting words.

"You can't change the Clave's mind overnight," Magnus reminds him, quietly. "You're arguing against centuries of prejudice, Alexander, that can't be simply wiped away with a few words and some determined gestures."

He's not saying anything that Alec doesn't know, or already think, but it still tears at him a little, because he's at the stage where he's not sure what the point is anymore, because nothing he is doing is helping.

"They just don't  _get it._ " Alec mutters, raking a hand through his hair. "We can't actually do everything ourselves, nor can we continue acting like we're better, because we're not - but they don't understand that. They think they can still control the Downworld with threat of the Accords ... Consul Dieudonné went on about how the Downworld would be the first to fall if Valentine wins this farce of a war, that 'they'll quickly learn' who's side to be on. He doesn't understand that Valentine will burn the entire world to start again, and Idris will likely be the first place he hits."

Magnus reaches out and rubs Alec's back, soothingly, a welcome and warm presence. "Valentine is far from being the Clave's biggest fan," He points out, pensively. "For all their flaws, I doubt they're blind to that."

Alec puts his glass on the table, and sinks his head into his hands. He's so close to giving up, to saying fuck it all and letting the world burn, because it's not like anything he does is really going to save it.

"How am I supposed to fight with people who don't believe in the same cause?" He asks, voice muffled by his hands. "How can I protect people who hate those like me? How - how am I supposed to prove that not all Shadowhunters are the same, when the general collective are cowering in their precious glass city and handing down orders without seeing the issues first-hand?"

Magnus' voice is gentle, and stronger than Alec feels. "I don't know." He admits, honest the way Alec needs. "But I believe that you can. You'll find a way to convince the Clave that they need to broaden their perception, and with help, you'll convince the Downworld that you only want to help."

Alec scoffs derisively, but lets Magnus' words float around him, selfishly, leaning back into Magnus' soothing touch. Only once the darkness has crept back from his mind enough for him to think past the danger pressing at them, does he lift his head.

"Enough about me," He says, a hidden plea, reaching for his glass. "How was your day?"

Magnus leans back against the corner of the couch, arm still around Alec. Taking a sip from his glass, Alec presses close, his knees bumping against Magnus', connected from their hips down to their entwined legs.

"I've managed to track down a few of the young warlocks advertising curses." Magnus admits, sliding his hand under Alec's jacket, to rest over his shirt and above his ribs. "I explained to them, with vivid projections, what really happens to the requesting mundanes if their potions work - a lot of them had found the recipes in old spellbooks, or heard them by word of mouth. A few got their information from a Shadow Market in Atlantic City, so I've made appointments with some friends there to discuss how to stop it spreading."

"Do you think it will stop them?" Alec asks. The last thing anyone needs is for young warlocks, fairly inexperienced from the sounds of it, making trouble and taking away attention and resources needed to fight against Valentine.

"I'm hoping," Magnus raises his glass, the wine staining his lips a dark burgundy. "A lot of the time, all they need is a good scare. I know that's what worked with me."

His mouth twists, wry and tight. Alec squeezes Magnus' knee, a comfort, an encouragement. Whatever Magnus needs, is his to take.

"I wouldn't have thought curses were really your thing." Alec admits, without judgement. "Upfront, personal confrontations seem like more of your thing."

Magnus tilts his head, thumb stroking the stem of his glass. "You'd be surprised." He says in a low voice, almost to himself, before casting a perplexed gaze at Alec. "I thought I'd written it down. The one in Spain, with Catarina, and the group of villagers who'd attempted to burn her as a witch?"

Alec ducks his head, the air suddenly sharp and icy. "I, uh-" He downs almost half his glass, to wet his dry throat. "I haven't actually read it."

He glances up at Magnus from the corner of his eye. Magnus' eyes are wide, but there's a spark there he hadn't seen before, a frown creasing his forehead. "Any of it?" He asks, tone painted with thinly-restrained astonishment.

Alec sits up straighter, taking comfort in the hand still pressed against his side. "No." He lowers his glass to the table, catching Magnus' confused gaze. "I haven't read any of it. I don't want to."

It's only once the words have come out, that Alec realises how it must have sounded, and he scrambles to explain himself in a way that doesn't portray him as an ass who doesn't care about Magnus' past, because that's the complete opposite of what he means.

"It's not that I don't want to, that I don't want to know-" The words run from him, a great escape. "It's just, that I don't want to  _read_ about it. I want to hear about it, from you, when you feel comfortable telling me. I don't want you to feel as though you have to tell me just because I want to know, or because we've been dating for  _x_ amount of time."

Magnus' hand slides away, pulling back, and for a brief moment Alec feels it's absence keenly. He's not given much time to think about it, as Magnus is covering Alec's hand with it, fingers falling into the free spaces.

"No one has ever," Magnus swallows, blinking rapidly. "No one has ever considered me, or my feelings, the way you do."

Alec's heart clenches when he notices the shining dampness of Magnus' dark eyes. He flips his palm, fingers tightening against Magnus'. A silent way of letting him know that Alec is there for him.

"I want to tell you about my past. I do." Magnus abandons his glass on the table in favour of wiping at his eyes, mindful of his makeup, though he keeps his other hand locked with Alec's. "It's simply not an easy task. I thought that writing it down would be easier, because it would be just between me and a stack of paper."

Something ugly twists inside of Alec's gut, mouth tainted with something that tastes a lot like guilt, but he keeps quiet, because it's not his place to speak up. Not yet.

Magnus exhales softly. "I can understand, on reflection how that might feel ... impersonal. And I can't deny that telling you, seeing your reactions to the many ridiculous and fool-hardy things I've done, would be thrilling."

"But you're not ready."

Magnus shakes his head, a stray tear sliding down his cheek. Alec carefully, hesitantly, wipes it away, his hand cradling Magnus' jaw. There's something high-strung and delicate in the atmosphere, and the idea of shattering that is heartbreaking.

"I have a lot of baggage, too." Magnus admits quietly, gaze cast to their hands. "I cannot explain one without bringing up the other."

"Okay." Alec states, because it's as simple as that for him. Magnus isn't ready. He'll wait.

Magnus glances up sharply, glittering charcoal eyeshadow almost lost to the wideness of his gaze. "Okay?" He echoes, weakly.

Alec's fingertips dig slightly into the nape of Magnus' neck, his other hand squeezing Magnus'. "Yes." He states, leaving no room for confusion. "Okay. You're not ready, I understand that. I'll be here when you are."

Something unexplainable flashes across Magnus' face. "What if I'm not ... ever, ready?"

Alec shrugs loosely. "I'll still be here. We can write our own future, removed from our past." He thinks, distantly, of the years he'd spent closeted and withdrawn, of the unconventional methods he'd used to cope, of the pain that had coloured his perception. "It's not as though mine is all that memorable."

Magnus shakes his head, a near-imperceptible movement, and then he's surging forward, lips soft and persistent against Alec's. The kiss is passionate but paced, both expressing with motions what they struggle to with words, gratitude and trust and immense affection melding together.

"I love you," Magnus states, when they finally pull apart, lashes fluttering, his forehead pressed to Alec's. "I love you, so much, Alexander."

Alec smiles, giddy and warm. "I love you, too." He drops a chaste kiss to Magnus' mouth. "I don't care about your past. I want to know, because it's you, and I want to know everything there is about you, but I don't want you to feel pressured to tell me. We have all the time in the world, to worry about any of that."

Or, all his mortal life. It is, perhaps, quite a heavy sentiment, but one that Alec means wholeheartedly.

"We might not," Magnus reminds him, pragmatically. "No one can predict the future. It could all end in flames and death by next Tuesday."

Alec tangles his fingers in the short hair of Magnus' nape, bumping his nose encouragingly against Magnus'. "Then," He says, lips brushing against Magnus'. "We should probably make the best of what time we do have, looking forward instead of backwards."

Magnus' enthusiastic kiss is quite a sufficient response, and all the encouragement that Alec needs.

* * *

 

 

**+ I**

The loft is bright, despite the silver moon glistening in the evening sky, windows open to let in chilled air, and out excited chatter and upbeat music. It's been a few weeks since the end of the Dark War, since Valentine Morgenstern, and his son and his army were swept from the earth, nothing more than ashes in the wind.

A lot of people were lost, and a lot of people mourned, Shadowhunters and Downworlders alike.

Tonight isn't about that. Tonight is about celebrating what has been won, of life and joy and moving forward, moving past the trauma and darkness, sinking into the reminder that things will, eventually, be okay again.

Most have recovered from their injuries, though the marks on the mind, the scars on the soul will take far longer to heal, if they ever do. Everyone is attempting to pick themselves back up from the dust, to return to some semblance of normalcy - to live because they're alive.

It was Alec's idea to throw a party.

Magnus was as surprised as expected, when Alec had dropped the suggestion one unfortunately early morning, a few hours before they both had to travel to Idris to stand before the Council and recount their version of events.

Alec had been quiet and reserved since they returned to New York, leaving the loft only once he had to, talking to the bare minimum of people. Magnus had expected it to take months for Alec to become comfortable with the idea of even socialising with his family, let alone his wider circle of friends.

Alec had been determined, though. He wanted to move on, and performing an activity even slightly out of his comfort zone was, in his mind, the push he needed to put the war behind him. To convince himself that even though he has been changed, he doesn't have to be a hollow shell, he can still be a person, can still be in some ways the man he was before.

Magnus had respected Alec, and his wishes, and together they planned a fun get-together with friends.

Which leads him here, standing next to the bar Maia is tending, a glass of wine in hand and a pleasant ache in his heart. They've lost so much, friends and family and deeper than that, hope. None of them are the same as they used to be, they've all been tainted in some way, and Alec feels the loss keenly, like it's a physical part of him.

He plays idly with the pendant sitting at his neck. It's small, the shape and colour of a silver coin, with the  _gift_  rune engraved on the front. A token from Jace, to remind him of the good things he still had, the good people who were still around, things they'd managed to accomplish, lives they'd saved.

Team Good, he'd joked when he'd given it to Alec earlier, before the party had really picked up. Alec is still trying to get used to it, the weight heavy on his soul and his sternum.

The weirdest thing about it, isn't the pendant or the rune or the meaning behind it. It's the fact that the black, twisted leather it's hanging off is the same as the tight bracelet Magnus had given him the day before. A bracelet which doesn't have a pendant, but does have a meaning behind it.

 _Aku cinta kamu._  I love you, in Indonesian, in Magnus' mother-tongue, the words he'd whispered over Alec's cheek as he clasped the bracelet on. A weight of a different kind, the heavy-hearted kind, that lifts when he catches Magnus' eye from across the room.

"Go," Maia says, with a teasing smile. Her hair is shaved on the left, revealing a nasty spider-web of silver scars that she wears proudly, a sign of her triumph over evil. Alec admires her strength more than he'll ever be able to tell her.

"You're kicking me out of the conversation?" He asks, with a faint smirk, placing his glass on the surface of the bar.

They'd been talking about her plans for the future, her return to college - Maia had joked about how she used to think her professors were evil for saddling with her with so much work. Alec had, admittedly, spaced-out a bit, but with everything that's happened he thinks that's quite reasonable.

"I'm telling you to go talk to your boyfriend," Maia corrects, wiping out a glass with a pristine white cloth. "Because the heart-eyes he's sending are stronger than lasers and I'm concerned it's going to rub off on me. I have a hard-edge reputation to manage."

"Of course," Alec nods, feigning seriousness. He raises his fist, knocking it into Maia's with a sharp grin. "Are you okay to be left here alone?"

Maia rolls her eyes in as fond of a gesture as she can manage. "I'm sure I'll be fine. Magnus is paying me generously for my services, the least I can do is stand behind a bar."

"You're welcome to crash here tonight, you know?" Alec fiddles with his bracelet. "Magnus recently bought out the rest of the floor, and there's a few furnished rooms, I don't think he'd mind. A few people already are, Jace and Iz and the rest of that lot."

Maia's smile softens. "I might have to take you up on that." She admits, before making a shooing gesture. "Now, go talk to Magnus. I don't think he's blinked in the past few seconds, is he trying to communicate telepathically, or something?"

Alec raises his hand in a salute, taking a step backwards. "I'm off. And as for the telepathic thing, that's yet to be determined."

Maia wasn't lying. Alec turns around, his attention being drawn automatically to Magnus, to find him already looking. As always, Magnus stands out in the crowd, though Alec isn't sure if that's because he's, well,  _Magnus Bane_ , or if it's because Alec will always search for him in a group of people, regardless of how large the crowd is.

He skims through the crowd, passing quick greetings and waves until he reaches his boyfriend. Magnus looks phenomenal, as always. Hair curled and streaked an electric blue, liner flicked beautifully, a soft lilac eyeshadow to go with his purple vest and white button-up, his grey jeans so tight they had literally been magicked on.

There are other things, that are a little harder to stomach. The slight turn down of Magnus' mouth when his smile fades, because the effort of being happy takes a bigger toll than it used to. The small cuts and marks on his calloused hands, from more hand-to-hand combat than he's used to, from lashing out against swords and small blades and half-humans with more strength and speed than the universe rightfully allows.

The obnoxiously painful scar in the middle of his chest, from when he was stabbed by a Circle member - lending Magnus his strength had been easy, watching Magnus try and heal himself while sluggishly bleeding out, not so much.

Magnus hasn't worn a single open shirt since; it had taken Alec a good, few persistent days to convince Magnus that the scar didn't make him ugly, that he didn't require necklaces to cover it up, because he's beautiful and all the scar does is signify his incredible strength and triumph over near-death. The shirts remained buttoned to his collar, but he doesn't seem as apprehensive letting Alec, or himself, see it, which Alec takes as a healthy sign of progress.

Alec rubs at his own forearm absently, thinking of the shimmering line running from his elbow to his palm, a thin, snaking reminder that although life had trickled from him, he'd still made it out alive.

"Is it hurting, darling?" Magnus asks, once Alec gets closer, gaze caught on his arm. "I can take away the pain, if you'd like."

Magnus wiggles his fingers, innocent blue sparks falling from the ends. Alec catches his hand, and kisses the knuckles softly, grateful for the smooth surface. "No need." He promises, sliding his hand into Magnus', punctuating with a gentle squeeze.

Magnus' smile grows, his nose scrunching with the force of his happiness. "So," He says, gaze flicking down to their hands briefly, before returning to Alec's. "The party turned out quite well. Everyone appears to be enjoying themselves."

Alec strokes his thumb over Magnus', absently. He's been smiling a lot more, today. Not wide or enthusiastic, but smiling nonetheless. "Are you?" He asks, heart thumping to the beat of the music drifting from the corner speakers.

Magnus leans forward, teasing his nose over the curve of Alec's cheekbone. He places a soft kiss to Alec's cheek, eyes fluttering closed. "I am. I always enjoy parties, though, and time spent with you. This evening has both. I couldn't wish for anything more."

Something warm, like liquid sunshine runs through Alec's veins, filling him with a gradual happiness. It's unfortunate, that the good feeling never lasts, that the darkness tainting his soul colours the edge of his joy, but just because it's fleeting doesn't mean it's not important.

If recent events have taught him anything, it's to appreciate and hold onto the good while it's there, because it makes enduring the bad that little bit easier.

"It's not going to be easy, is it?" Alec nips hesitantly at his bottom lip. "Moving forward. Putting these last couple of months behind us."

Alec hates the dark path his mind takes, but it's a question that's been weighing on his mind for a while, and he's never been able to summon the strength to ask it before now. He's happy, for the most part, and comfortable and safe against the arm that Magnus is wrapping around his waist, and it's something that he needs to know.

"I don't think so," Magnus admits. Alec hums, appreciating his honesty. "Recovery isn't a rickety bridge, it's a gaping canyon. We're standing on one side, with trauma behind us, and pure happiness in front of us, and no way to cross. But we will. I believe that we will, when we're ready."

Alec rests his head in the crook of Magnus' neck, uncomfortable angle be damned. "And when will that be?" He asks, laughing weakly, carefully wrapping his hand around Magnus' front.

Magnus' squeezes Alec's hip, above his dark green button-up -  _emerald_ , Magnus had called it. "Unfortunately, darling, I don't know. I wish I did, I'm sure I could have saved myself a lot of trouble in the past if I could predict when things would get better. Alas, perfection is a weak concept and everyone has their flaws."

Alec presses a kiss to the underside of Magnus' jaw, then another to the space below his ear. "You're pretty damn close to perfect," Alec declares, thumb caught in a belt-loop, the belt itself a flashy silver.

Magnus smirks. "I do try."

He lifts his free hand, catching Alec's chin, titling it up until their mouths are close enough to brush, the faintest touch. The kiss is chaste and sweet, a kiss that speaks of love, gratitude and affirmation. Magnus traces his thumb over Alec's chin, pulling gently at his bottom lip, admiring the red that paints his mouth, the pink that still floods his cheeks, despite almost a year of being together. The light that flickers in eyes that have been achingly dull in recent weeks.

"I'm so proud of you," Magnus whispers, an exalted reverence. He teases the corner of Alec's mouth with a brief kiss, because he can't, in all honesty, help himself. "For how far you've come, for how strong you are." Alec's lips part with an airy gasp, his mouth tugging into a hesitant smile.

Magnus cups Alec's cheek, holding them in each other's orbit. '"How brave," He continues, swept by an almost desperate urge, a lake flooding a fractured dam. "And selfless, and giving you are."

"Mags," Alec's cheeks are flushed bright, his lips quirked in a shy, unbelieving smile. It fills Magnus with a pleasant complacency, the kind of warmth and safety that comes with home, more a concept than a physical place.

Not his loft, or his London Townhouse, back when he owned it. Home, he's found, in Alec's heart.

"I love you, Alexander." Magnus whispers the words against Alec's lips, his fingers buzzing with withheld magic, sparked by the unrelenting storm of emotion inside him. It happens, sometimes, especially in the last few weeks, with his attention spent on healing, recovering, ensuring the safety of his people, both of the Downworld and of his ragtag new family.

His magic is tied to him, it's an integral part of who he is and it reflects the best and worst parts of him, the heightened edge to his constantly shifting inner workings.

Alec presses a line of kisses along Magnus' jaw, soft and parted, his arm tightening around Magnus' waist. "I love you, too." He mumbles against Magnus' neck, holding him tight enough to meld into one entity. "More than I ever thought I could love anyone."

There's a few things, that hang in the air between them, sentiments that have been said before; words that are heard without being spoken.

_I'm lucky to have you. I'm glad you're alive. My life is infinitely better with you in it. I can't see a future without you._

"My feelings reflect the same," Magnus promises, hot air ghosting over Alec's mouth, thumb pressed to his cheek with delicate care. "You are the better part of me, Alec. The best part."

Alec draws Magnus into a slow kiss, trying to still the raging thoughts in his mind, the rampant, repetitive stream of  _impossible, that's impossible._  A small voice, quieter than the rest but just as strong, pipes up in a tone similar to Magnus', bleeding pure affection.  _"Why is it impossible? If he's the best part of you, why can't you be the best part of him?"_

Alec has learnt a lot of things, in the past year especially. How to be comfortable with himself, how to pave his own path, how to look past his parent's grievances and make decisions of his own volition. How to forgive, and how to plead forgiveness. How to fight alongside allies he despises, because the outcome far outweighs the temporary discomfort.

Perhaps, most important of all: how to love.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Alec wakes to the sound of slightly off-key humming, and a low thread of burnt smoke - distinct impressions of his childhood, calling forth memories he'd not spent thought on in far too long.

He leaves the warmth of his bed, and Magnus' embrace, and shrugs on a pair of low-riding grey trackpants, and an oversized black top that is undoubtedly Magnus'; the most pointed clue being the sequined  _'Blink If You Want Me'_ illustrated on the front, and the loose way it hangs off his shoulders.

It's not the first time Alec has worn Magnus' clothes. Won't be the last, either.

He drops a kiss to Magnus' forehead, sweeping his fringe off his face with a secret care shared only between them in authentic privacy. Magnus stirs, but does not wake, settled against the royal purple sheets with a graceful sigh, and the teasing hint of a smile.

Alec runs a hand through his errant bed hair as he trudges into the kitchen. Isabelle is perched at the bench, a steaming mug of coffee in hand, sharing quiet conversation with Simon, who seems to be stirring something in a bright green bowl.

They're both still in nightwear themselves, Simon in black pants with white helmets and a matching shirt that reads 'you're looking in Alderaan places' - another mundane reference that Alec doesn't understand, or care to. Isabelle is wearing black leggings and a shirt that almost reaches her knees, plain grey with thin black lines along the sleeves.

"Good morning, big brother." She greets with a cheery grin, when she spots Alec. Simon waves enthusiastically, still invested in whatever he's mixing.

Alec presses a kiss to Isabelle's temple, and tugs lightly on her braid. "Is that my shirt?" He asks, with a barely-concealed smirk.

Isabelle doesn't even bother denying it. "I borrowed it. It's not like you would have needed it." She winks, and Alec sighs, because it's far too early in the morning to deal with his sister's innuendo's and teasing quips.

"What did you try and cook this time?" He asks, heading straight towards the coffee machine, the saving grace of his morning. "Don't bother telling me you didn't, I could smell the smoke from my bedroom."

Isabelle looks a tad sheepish, but likely only from being called out so quickly. "Breakfast." She declares, with an airiness that tells Alec she's completely aware of how vague she's being. "I was up early, so I thought I would make something for everyone."

Everyone being the varied scatter of people, both sprawled out in the living room and crashed in odd rooms down the hall.

Simon straightens up with a gleeful smile. "Don't worry, Alec." He goes to nudge Alec with his elbow, and then seeing Alec's firm glare and the mug of hot coffee in hand, decides against it, shrinking back, though the grin remains. "I stepped in before she could break or burn anything."

"You can trust Simon," Isabelle declares, toying with the end of her braid. "You can trust me, too, but I know you don't, so attempting to convince you of that is wasted breath."

"Love you, too, Iz." Alec quips drily, sipping from his mug slowly. He glances at the green bowl in Simon's hands, apprehensive and a little suspicious. "What are you making?"

"Pancakes!" Simon announces. "Everyone loves pancakes. It's a win-win."

Alec shrugs, but doesn't dispute the fact. Pancakes are good. Magnus makes good pancakes, but that's because he puts spices and other things in the batter that make it taste exponentially delicious.

Alec respects Simon enough to wait until after he's at least had a bite before he makes a judgement on his cooking skills. They can't taste worse than the time Isabelle served overcooked pasta and burnt butter - how she didn't notice that the sauce was turning black, he'll never understand. It's almost a skill, how badly Isabelle's cooking abilities are.

"The party went well, last night." Isabelle states, watching curiously as Alec pulls out a stool next to her. "I'm quite proud of how well you managed it."

"Well," Alec scrubs the back of his neck. "Magnus did help. And Maia kept the mood quite bright, which is I'm sure a feat in and of itself."

"Everyone was smiling," Simon pipes up. "Which generally means they were having fun. Hey, Alec, quick question?"

Alec's dispassionate, raised eyebrow is all the response he gives.

"Where are the pans?" Simon asks, hands wringing before him nervously.

Alec indicates the cupboard next to the stove, then instructs Simon on how to use the stove because it's not as easy as flicking a switch, and then worst of all, has to endure a disgustingly sappy look from Isabelle, directed at Simon, who barely notices it in his excitement to cook breakfast.

"Your boyfriend is a dork," Alec points out, in a low mumble. He cradles his mug in his hands, letting the heat seep into his cold fingers. He never realises how cold it is until he leaves the bedroom.

"I'm aware." Isabelle shrugs, tracing a black-painted nail over the rim of her own, half-empty cup. "But, the heart wants what it wants."

Alec rolls his eyes, the gesture too fond to really have much of an impact. Isabelle pokes his shin with her socked foot, a daring glint in her eyes.

"I'm happy for you," He admits, quietly. "You've found someone good for you, someone who cares about you, someone you deserve - and, best of all, someone who understands how utterly terrifying you can be."

"Yeah," Isabelle glances at Simon quickly, her features softening. "I got pretty lucky." Her eyes darken, just slightly, with a teasing glint Alec had learnt to recognise at a very early age. "Not as lucky as you."

Alec hides his smile inside the rim of his mug, letting the coffee wash down the bubbling joy threatening to overflow. He did get lucky. Damn lucky.

"It's a good look on you." Isabelle says, tucking an escaped hair behind her ear. "Unending happiness."

Alec's exhale is shaky, something tight clenching in his chest, though his heart springs free from his ribcage with uncontainable enthusiasm. Unending happiness. "I never thought I would get it, you know." He glances down, at the black leather bracelet still tied around his wrist. "This kind of, life-affirming ... happiness. I thought I'd be destined to life as a shadow of my true self."

"Fortunately," Isabelle reaches out and squeezes his free hand. "That's not the case."

Alec shakes his head, unable to fight off the blooming grin. "No, it's not."

He's come far. He knows. From a timid boy too scared to hold a seraph blade, a closeted boy hiding in his parabatai's shadow, a man navigating a new, unforeseen world and the equally challenging beginning stages of a relationship - to now. To him.

To someone who can fight without his brother's blade, someone who's managed to juggle the job he loves with the man he's in love with. Someone who is finally comfortable within their own skin, who isn't afraid of their own heart - now entwined with another's.

Alec can recognise the glowing light of his soul and accept that who he is, is damn good enough. For anyone, but especially, for himself.

**Author's Note:**

> (in case it was unclear: 1) not fitting at his parent's desk; 2) not fitting as a parabatai; 3) not fitting in his parent's view; 4) not fitting on Magnus' couch; 5) not fitting in Magnus' heart/within his past; +1) Alec fitting into his own skin.)
> 
> My deepest thanks to boldbiscuit for the prompt, it really encouraged me to think outside of the box, and I'm personally quite happy with how it has turned out. I hope you liked it too. ❤️
> 
> thank you for reading! - [my tumblr](http://killjoyrow.tumblr.com) and [fandom side-blog](http://drugs-and-candy.tumblr.com) and [twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/malteser_24)
> 
> (if anyone is interested in live-tweeting feel free to use the tag #malteser24 (original I know): and yes I did totally steal this idea from vulturemonem. Sorry not sorry, Lu ❤️)


End file.
